


Best of It

by flying_pupitre



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, M/M, Magic Loss, Marriage of Convenience, Reckless decision making, War, violations of canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 05:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_pupitre/pseuds/flying_pupitre
Summary: "'I’m sorry. I’m not- handling this as well as I thought I would.'From his vantage point Alec thinks Magnus is actually handling it really well for someone who recently lost his magic, immortality, community, and was subsequently forced into marriage for his own protection."Magic loss AU with a dose of arranged marriage.





	Best of It

It had happened unexpectedly and irrationally, but he supposed such was the nature of war. Alliances formed with a snap of the fingers; they dissolved without a trace. Which is perhaps why he’d found himself in a certain Magnus Bane’s bedroom, shirtless, hands tangled in Magnus’s hair, caressing the other man’s face with his thumb as he’d leaned in for another kiss. He’s not even sure how it all happened. The first time a reckless accident perhaps, the second and third a touch more intentional.  

They had two weeks, maybe a little more before the Circle rose, Accords dissolved, and their worlds exploded. They were ambushed right outside Magnus’s apartment by a unit of Circle members. It wasn’t a fair fight to begin with; Circle members were somehow ridiculously well funded and tenacious. But they fought the best they could until Alec had a seraph blade pressed against his throat and was forced to kneel. They told him they’d let him go if the Warlock came quietly; out of the corner of his eye he saw Magnus nod imperceptibly. After that it’s a bit of blur, chains clanging around Magnus’s outstretched wrists. He thought they’d kill him anyway, but they honor their word and with a flashing purple light they were gone.

Nothing remained, except a tiny cut on Alec’s throat which healed immediately with activation of the _iratze_ rune. He never breathed a word of the incident to anyone, not even Jace who suspected something horrible happened but never pushed for exactly what. Alec was promoted and promptly dispatched to Alicante to control operations from there. While he confirmed Magnus Bane survived, his security clearance statutes didn’t allow him to discern much more than that. War ebbed on for years in starts and bursts, and any news about Magnus Bane, former High Warlock of Brooklyn, could only be pieced together through rumor and hearsay.

Magnus crossed his mind every so often, every time there was a respite in the fighting. Of course there were times when he’d thought about writing, sending a fire message whenever the lines of communication were briefly reestablished. But war always wrecked everything nice, including fledging somethings, and Alec had never been able to find the words to say what he needed to. Magnus had probably forgotten him anyway, and he could push it from his mind too. Such was the nature of war.  

\--

Years pass, nearly a decade, and with the exception of very rare random flashbacks he almost forgets the incident entirely. Until one day in early November there is a lot of shouting, hands slamming on tables that prompts him to burst into the High Counsel’s office. Wonders upon wonders it is Magnus Bane, shoulders hunched and body defeated, pleading his case in front of the Counsel Penhallow. Counsel Penhallow, drawn to her full height, hand delicately placed on her sabre sheath. They are speaking furiously, and neither notice Alec rushing in with his arrow drawn. Alec lowers his bow, but is rooted to his spot as the Counsel takes a step towards Magnus, forcing the warlock to retreat an inch backwards.

“While we are grateful for your instrumental role in reshaping the agreements between our communities,” she begins evenly, “we cannot offer you protection at this time.”

“Would you care to explain why, or is this a famous Clave ultimatum?”

“You know why. We know you lost your magic. Without it you are no better than a _Mundane_ , and we have no use for your _lack_ of skillset at this moment. Ask the new High Warlock.” Her voice has a soft lilt to it, as if explaining something to a very small child.

Alec observes Magnus flinch, and he winces a little as well. He’d heard rumors of Magnus acting as some sort of double agent, but the magic loss was a myth unconfirmed until now.

“The High Warlock is dead. Most of the Warlocks are gone. I put my life, my magic on the line to ensure _your_ victory and _your_ enemies are still out there trying to kill me. I’m being tracked, and you know this.”

“I am deeply sorry Mr. Bane-”

“You aren’t.”

“Fine. If that’s how you’d like to play it, let me be frank. What you did for us during the war was greatly appreciated. But without your magic you are worthless. There is no reason to offer you any sort of protection unless you had a special relationship with the Shadowhunters, say familial ties or marriage, which we know you do not have. Therefore, I regret to inform you that we will not under any circumstance grant you any sort of amnesty.”

A miserable prickly flush accumulates across Alec's shoulder blades and down his spine. The Accords had been reworked to be more inclusive and progressive towards the Downworld, but of course most of this was on paper. He sees Magnus, spine snapped into a straight line, shoulders deliberately pulled back. Alec considers backing out, to slip through the door as fluidly as he came in. He could forget this all happened; he wasn’t supposed to see this anyway. Magnus’s face is brave, painfully so, and for the second time in his life Alec takes a page out of Jace’s play book and does the first idiotic thing that pops into his mind.

“I’ll marry him.”

The silence that follows is deafening. They both look shocked at the sudden intrusion. Magnus’s eyes rove over his face, and he realizes that it takes a second for Magnus to recognize him. When he does, Magnus’s mouth hardens into a thin line and Counsel Penhallow rounds on him. Alec can feel the blood drain from his face, and his hands are trembling, but he stands his ground.

“I’ll marry him. If he’ll have me.”

Counsel Penhallow goes very still, her rage at Magnus deflected unto Alec for the complete insubordination.

“Mr. Lightwood I can assure you that your family will be very displeased with-”

Alec puts on his best Clave diplomat smile, and straightens his shoulders as well. He reaches out and puts his hand very gently on Magnus’s shoulder. Magnus stiffens, but doesn’t jerk away.

“We’ve been seeing each other for some time. I was actually planning on proposing in a few months, but it seems we will have a bit of a rushed engagement.”

Counsel Penhallow begins to sputter, and Alec continues smoothly. He had always been the most earnest child, but somehow during the war he’d discovered a hidden talent for lying under very specific circumstances. He doesn’t dare look at Magnus’s face.

“These unions are legal now Counsel, you wrote the law yourself.”

Counsel Penhallow’s mouth twists.

\--

The ceremony is small one, attended by a Silent Brother and Isabelle. Jace hadn’t returned from his trip to the Manila Institute; while Alec could put on a brave face for Izzy he couldn’t trust himself with Jace. His parents are unavailable to attend, but his mother rages at him for at least an hour beforehand in his room, bemoaning his incredible stupidity and audacity. He’s not sure what’s the worst offence. The lying, the alleged sneaking around, or the fact that if he had firmly ground the Lightwood name into the dust. He tries to placate her anyway, framing it in terms he thinks she would understand. 

“You know as well as I do that is Magnus Bane were to die that would destroy any possibility of upholding this fragile peace. We’re always just step away from everything falling part, and I did my duty.”

“Bullshit.”

He doesn’t think he’s actually ever heard his mother swear before, and she storms out, unable to handle it any longer.

“We wanted you to have a real marriage,” his father sighs.

“Like yours?”

In a second Robert’s face goes from red to purple. “Insolent.” He hisses once before turning on his heel and striding out of the hall. To his credit Alec does manage to yell “I’m sorry,” after his retreating parents. He genuinely means it.

\--

The cottages for married Shadowhunters dot a glamoured section of Manhattan, just on the banks of the Hudson. They are quiet, utilitarian spaces, with simple décor. There is a bedroom and a Spartan living area with a tiny kitchen. Exactly what newly married soldiers need to ensure the fight came first and the sense of home came second. Alec hesitates by the front door, unsure how to proceed until Magnus drops his bag onto the sofa. He’d been silent throughout the trip. They’d stopped by his loft, now under Clave jurisdiction, and quickly packed a duffle bag of his things. He takes in the space once, and scoffs.

“I know it’s not what you’re used to.” Alec says softly.

“You’re quite the martyr.” Magnus says sharply, turning to face Alec squarely. Alec flinches.

“I’m not.”

“No? Then you’ve made your thrall. I don’t have anything I can pay you with.”

“It’s not like that. You are free to do as you please.”

“Within the confines of Clave sanctions,” Magnus spits out. His face contorts, expression going from bitter to desperate. “Your kind is inherently selfish, and there is literally nothing I can give you. I don’t understand. Why?”

“It’s a repayment of a debt, Magnus. No need to make it anything more than that.” Alec cuts in with a sigh, exhausted and unable to think anymore. It’s the easiest thing he can think of, and sometimes the simplest thing is the best thing. But it’s the wrong thing to say, as Magnus’s eyes widen, and his face goes from perplexed to livid.

Alec can feel more than hear the door slam behind him.   

\--

Magnus doesn’t return the next day, nor the next. Alec stays busy, after all it’s not his concern what Magnus does. On the second day he thinks of using one of Magnus’s sweaters to track him, but Alec comes home from work to find a pot of stew steaming quietly on the stove and Magnus waiting at the set table, hands delicately folded. When Alec approaches he gestures at the empty seat and rises, spooning the stew into bowls and setting them on the table easily. He sits, and clears his throat, eyes serious.

“I regret my previous behavior. I do owe you my gratitude.”

“It’s alright. I- this is really good.” Alec mutters, shoving the stew into his mouth perhaps a shade too eagerly, but he thinks he can see the edge of Magnus’s lips curl in a hint of a smile.

“Interesting circumstances to see you under again, Mr. Lightwood.”

Alec doesn’t respond; there is nothing for him to say.  

“I’d like to call a truce.”

Alec looks up from his bowl then, startled.

“We’ll make the best of it.” Magnus continues, with a brisk businesslike tone, fitting to the drawing up of a contract.

“Alright.” Alec agrees quietly.

He focuses on chewing, not particularly difficult as it turns out Magnus Bane is an exceptional cook. They briefly discuss the room situation, deciding that Alec will take the bedroom, and Magnus will sleep on the couch. Business taken care of, they eat in silence, not amiable but not exactly tense either, gentle clinks of cutlery sounding in the room. Alec sighs and sets his utensils down.  

“You’re welcome to come and go as you wish, and do whatever you want. You are welcome to see whoever you want. Obviously.”

Magnus raises an eyebrow.

“Obviously.” He echoes, maybe making fun, but nods. “So much for the sanctity of marriage,” he quips mirthlessly. Alec shrugs. There aren’t a lot of examples of happy, healthy marriages around him. Everyone has affairs.

They clean up together, Alec washing and Magnus drying.

“It’s strange.” Magnus says, almost so softly that Alec has to ask him to repeat himself.

“What is?” Alec replied, wondering if this will lead to another unpleasant conversation.

“Doing this without magic.”

“Ah-” Alec begins awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Magnus dries the last dish and excuses himself to the bathroom, letting the door shut behind him with a distinct finality.

Alec takes the opportunity to escape to the bedroom. He strains for any noise from the living room, in case Magnus needs anything. But it’s only silence, heavy and empty.

\--

Jace is back the following Monday, and even if their mother hadn’t already informed him he had sensed the ire thrumming through his body, radiating from the _parabatai_ rune. He knows Jace is spoiling for a fight, and maybe with good reason. He does the obvious thing and avoids confrontation, until Jace corners him in the weapons room.

“I would make a joke about a shot gun wedding but this doesn’t really seem like the case.”

Jace’s voice is soft, reasonable; Alec knows he’s meticulously managing his feelings.

“It had to be done quickly.”

He knows Jace wants to ask him everything, but perhaps one of the best qualities about Jace is that he never pried until prompted.

“I thought you would have told me.” Jace says, the closest thing he comes to a reprimand.

“You know how it was before the new laws.” Alec replies.

Jace nods, but he looks skeptical. He shakes his head once, trying to control his facial expressions, and reaches for Alec. Alec thinks Jace is going to punch him, but he just draws him in for a quick hug.

“Well, congratulations. We’ll have to um- celebrate together some time. He makes you happy?”

He realizes the edge to Jace’s voice isn’t anger, but worry.

“He does.”

It turns out he can lie to Jace too.

\--

From what he can glean, Magnus sleeps late into the morning, curled tightly upon himself. He spends long hours on the porch looking out over the river, the sun glowing softly on his face. Sometimes Alec will see him reading, but more often he stares into space, expression distant. He can’t spend too long monitoring what Magnus does during the day, as his workload has increased tenfold, a not so subtle punishment for defiance. He knows Magnus can’t wander too far, Clave sanctions and all that, but somedays he’ll leave and come back to see Magnus in the exact same spot, as if he hadn’t moved at all. He isn’t terribly talkative, but the table is always set for dinner without fail.  

Alec asks him once if Magnus would ever like to have anyone over, but Magnus had dismissed the idea with a short “No,” and Alec didn’t push for an explanation.

Three weeks in Alec takes the baking dish from Magnus after dinner, and wipes it slowly, avoiding Magnus’s eyes.

“I could put in a word at the Clave for you.” He ventures. “You know, maybe a consulting position or something-” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Magnus suck in a quick breath and twist the faucet shut. He turns to face Alec, face hard.

“I suppose you think I’m lazy.”

“No, I only thought you might want something more that cooking and doing -”

“I don’t owe the Clave anything.” Magnus bites out, eyes narrowed.

“Okay. Okay.” Alec placates softly, holding his hands up in surrender.

Magnus’s face softens, and he sighs.

“I’m sorry. I’m not- handling this as well as I thought I would.”

From his vantage point Alec thinks Magnus is actually handling it really well for someone who recently lost his magic, immortality, community, and was subsequently forced into marriage for his own protection. Feelings are not something Alec has been exceptionally skilled at and he feels at a loss to truly understand what he’s gathered is grief. He’s lost people over the years, people he’d loved, but he couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose pieces of yourself. De-runing ceremonies were always the topic for hot gossip, but they were held in complete privacy where one day a person was there and the next day they weren’t. He’d never thought about what it might be like to lose everything and be alive to bear it all. He thinks about reaching out, touching Magnus’s arm. But all he can muster is a quiet, “Sorry,” which Magnus accepts with a little nod before turning and preparing the sofa for the night.

Alec lies in bed for a long time after that, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to arrive. With a sigh he forces himself up, and pads to his bedroom door to open it a crack.

“Magnus?”

A stir.

“Yes, Alexander.”

It’s a dark night, and he can just make out the shape of the sofa and a bundle of sheets with Magnus’s body somewhere in there. 

“You’re not worth as much as your magic.”

Silence.

“What Counsel Penhallow said that day. She was wrong. Your worth is not defined by your ability to do or not do magic.”

It goes very still, and in the darkness Alec can’t tell if Magnus has even heard him or not. He begins to close the door of his bedroom quietly, and he can just barely discern a dim “Thank you. Alexander,” floating towards him from across the space. He knows Magnus can’t see him, but he nods anyway, and softly shuts his door all the way.

In the morning, Alec is awakened by the smell of fresh coffee and the clanking of pots and pans. Alec wanders into the kitchen, where Magnus is wearing just pair of sweatpants. Magnus is quietly humming to himself and turned to the stove, muscles in his back flexing subtly as cooks. There’s a tiny mole under his shoulder blade that Alec never noticed before. Magnus must feel him staring and turns around with bright grin.

“Sit, I’m just finishing up.”

Alec takes his seat dutifully at the table.

“Did you go for a run this morning?” Alec asks, suddenly noticing Magnus is wearing a pair of Mundane running shoes.

“I did. Don’t worry I stayed within the wards.” Magnus says, putting down a stack of pancakes in front of Alec. He hovers around Alec for a second, looking suddenly cautious.

“I was thinking, if you have time today would you walk me to Catarina’s?I haven't seen her since well, you know. She actually suggested I do a little research for her, stuff that doesn't need magic, and I thought I'd take her up on it."

“Of course.”

\--

The first attack comes just after New Year’s. They are walking home from the library when the first arrow just misses him and hits the tree behind Magnus. There are three of them, and Alec pulls Magnus behind him. Alec draws his arrow in a clean motion, and the first Circle member is quickly dispatched of.

He shoves away Magnus from him and hisses out an order to run. The other two are in too close range, which means hand to hand combat. Alec draws his seraph blade, anticipating the pound of Magnus’s footsteps away from him, but out of the corner of his eye Magnus takes up a fighting stance next to him. _Fuck_. Suddenly he feels his heart hammer, and he almost feels lightheaded, the visceral sense of dread unlike anything he has ever felt before rises in his body. But the muscle memory finally kicks in, and at Magnus’s quick nod of reassurance he charges.

As it turns out, Magnus Bane is impressively skilled at combat, even without weaponry or magic, and this time they aren’t caught off guard. They move well together, Alec getting a clean stab through one Circle member before his blade is knocked out of his hand by the other. The remaining attacker lunges for him and Magnus somehow manages to step in front of Alec and land a solid roundhouse kick and a punch, giving Alec enough time to recover his blade and make the death stroke. They’re both panting afterwards; Magnus flashes him a weak smile. There isn’t much time to celebrate. They run the rest of the way home, praying no one else had followed them.

Alec all but thrusts Magnus through the door, slamming it shut behind them. He’s bleeding from his lip, and there’s a maybe minor cut on his arm. Magnus has a little scratch under his right eye and dark bruising on his arms, but otherwise looks unharmed. Magnus, still gasping a little, gestures vaguely over the Alec’s split lip. Alec moves to fish his _stele_ out of his pocket, and is chagrined to find it neatly broken into two pieces.

“Well fuck.”   

Magnus steps in front of him.

“Let’s see that cut on your arm. Take off your shirt.” He commands matter-of-factly.

Alec feels the heat rise in his cheeks, but he pulls off his shirt, wincing when it catches the cut, bleeding quietly. Magnus observes it clinically.

“It doesn’t look terribly deep, but it probably needs stitches. Do you have a suture kit? I could probably fix that for you.”

“Honestly is there any thing you aren’t good at?”

“I’ve been alive a long time Alexander. You learn how to take care of yourself.”

Every Shadowhunter has little first aid kits on their person just in case. Magnus sits him down on the sofa and cleans the wound carefully.

“It’s going to hurt.” He warns, taking out the needle and thread from it’s sanitized casing, and Alec shrugs.

Magnus works methodically, slowly knitting the flesh together. His stitches are good, clearly the product of a lot of practice. Magnus smiles a little at Alec watching him work.

“Civil War.”

“Ah.”

It’s still, save Alec’s occasional hisses of pain. They haven’t been in close proximity like this for a long, long time, and the adrenaline sharpens Magnus’s features. From this angle, the lamp light is soft on on Magnus’s face, glowing a warm gold off his nose and cheek bones. Time slows down as Alec breathes through the sting, light dancing quietly in Magnus’s intent dark eyes, lips slightly pursed. A strand of hair falls in Magnus’s face, but he’s too focused to notice. The tips of Alec’s fingertips tingle, longing to brush it back brush it back-

“There you are Alexander-” Magnus’s expression satisfied and maybe a hint proud.  

Alec presses his lips to Magnus’s. Maybe it’s the adrenaline that makes him heady, heedless, but god damn it would be a lie to the idea of this hadn’t crossed his mind every once in a while before he’d viciously pressed it down. It’s been weeks, maybe years since he’d imagined running his fingers along the lines of Magnus’s stomach, pressing his lips to that spot when his shirt rode up over his jeans once. Reality hits and he jerks back with an explosive apology. Magnus regards him seriously for second, expression illegible. Alec swallows heavily, fuming at doing something so intrinsically irrevocable. Magnus holds his gaze, looking shocked but not angry. He slides a careful thumb over Alec’s busted lip, and leans in to kiss him. He doesn’t hold back, running his tongue along Alec’s lower lip then pressing inside. The cut on Alec’s lip breaks open; it tastes like copper and yearning.

Time had stretched on and Alec had learned a few things. He was no longer a fumbling twenty-year-old, deftly pulling Magnus’s tunic over his head, running a meditative hand up Magnus’s bare ribs. It’s nothing like what he’d been able to conjure up in his mind, lying awake, thinking of Magnus just on the other side of the door a thousand years away. This is a terrible, terrible idea but even if Alec is half Angel he’s half human too and the human half is too far gone to care. After all, he’s done one stupid, ill-advised things in his life recently so what was one more?

“Are you sure you want this?” Alec probes, trying to keep his voice from betraying his eagerness. But Magnus could still teach him a thing or two as well, licking along Alec’s jaw, gasping out his affirmation against Alec’s skin, voice thick, excited.

It strikes him how much things had irreparably moved on. He remembers the way they were once, stolen kisses in dark hallways, his mouth bumbling against Magnus’s the first time they kissed, like a silly moth. They’d been furtive, excessively careful, and had always met on Alec’s terms. It crossed Alec’s mind to wonder if that would have even mattered. He’d told himself it was to protect them both, but the actual reason was more selfish. But no one noticed him anyway, questioned what he did as long as Jace was protected and cared for. Regardless, he’d always _iratzed_ himself twice, ensuring there would be no stray mark to betray him. But now everything was in the open. They were legally married, and matter what the Clave elders or the narrower minded contingency thought the union would have to be respected.

It no longer mattered who saw and who noticed. Yet he can’t help but feel shy, self conscious as he fumbles a little with the buttons on his own jeans. The reticence eventually fades away, replaced by desperation as he reaches for a kiss and then another, the feel of Magnus’s body opening up to his. Alec begs him to tell him how to make this so so good for him, bruising kisses into Magnus’s neck and relishing Magnus’s moan of pleasure when Alec reaches between them to stroke his cock. Magnus’s body is muscle and bone, hard and uncompromising. It’s the body that has lived through a lot, fought through a lot. But in Alec’s hands his body is soft, pliant, and yields to him. The little hitches in his throat encourage Alec, and the initial frenzied feeling fades. He takes his time, relearning a body he knew once an aeon ago. If this was just going to be a one-time thing, the result of a near death experience and good fight, then he wants to savor it.

He wonders what Magnus remembers. Was there any possibility Magnus had thought of him, maybe once or twice, during the war? Magnus’s face is indiscernible, head thrown back against the armrest of the sofa, face flushed and eyes squeezed shut. Had the thought of this crossed Magnus’s mind at all? But Alec wills stillness into his mind, focusing instead on the way the rough pads of Magnus’s fingers feel running carefully along Alec’s collar bone, eyes glittering in the moonlight. If this was them making the best of it then so be it. Magnus’s hands move over Alec’s body, tangle in Alec’s hair as he kisses him hard. “Fuck me,” he breathes against Alec’s lips.

It has been some time since Alec had sex, being Head of the Institute didn’t leave much time for dating. But good sex isn’t rocket science, and it starts to feel familiar as he deftly uncaps the lube and pours it onto his fingers. He can’t remember the last time it was like this though. Let the way Magnus made little keening noises against Alec’s skin as Alec fucks him, let the way Magnus clutches at him, ever mindful of his wound, be etched in his flesh.

Afterwards he thinks of asking Magnus into the bedroom. But Magnus curls up into the sofa and Alec thinks it’s probably best not to disturb him.  

\--

In the morning Magnus seems fine and not drowning in a terrible sea of regret. He pushes a cup of coffee towards Alec. There’s a mark high on his neck that Alec definitely did not remember making. Alec stands at the table awkwardly. Thoughts had occurred to him during the night and he thinks he should try and address them. He clears his throat.

“Were you seeing anyone? I mean when we got married.”

“God, what a thing so ask after you’ve fucked me six ways from Sunday.” Magnus smirks.

“I’m sorry I should have er- asked before.” Alec articulates. Magnus scrutinizes him contemplatively.

“No. Were you seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“I guess it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.” Magnus says flippantly before turning back to the coffee maker.

“Right.” Alec agrees easily enough, gripping the cup until his knuckles turn white. 

Alec has to leave for the Institute, and Magnus busies himself with the research he promised to finish for Catarina. He's asleep by the time Alec is home, and doesn't stir when Alec walks by him to get to the bedroom. 

\--

Alec thinks it will be a one off thing and they will never speak of it again. But they fuck a lot more after that. The Clave had protocols for everything. Up until a few years ago there were very specific expectations for who you could love, marry, and fuck. But of course there was no protocol for this, sleeping with a man you are married to, correction, had no choice but to marry you. They never speak of Before, and with the exception of the one time, Magnus never asks him Why.

But maybe it didn't matter now anyway, and Alec wasn't going to dredge up details from the past. They'd established some sort of new order, and Alec can tentatively confirm that it's actually fine. Magnus stayed on the nights they fucked, curled up on the sofa when they didn’t. But people did this sort of thing all the time, fucked people they didn’t love, as far as he can tell. Look at his siblings for example, or even his parents. Shadowhunter marriages were alliances, drawn in love sometimes but also for political or social gain. Of course the title of former High Warlock of Brooklyn was nothing to scoff at, despite what his family or the Clave thought. It was as powerful an alliance Alec ever thought he’d make, partnerships hastily negotiated for safety aside. Without the sex, Magnus is probably the most considerate roommate he’s ever had. He keeps his space neat, maintains reasonable hours, and cleans up after himself. With the sex, it’s dangerously adjacent to relationships Alec’s had in the past, except Magnus never complains about the long hours Alec is forced to keep in the office or any of the other number of reasons dating the Head of the Institute isn’t easy or ideal. But of course it was necessary to remind himself that while it was similar, it was also different in the key fact that it wasn’t really Magnus’s responsibility to care what Alec did or didn’t do.

\--

Things change and things don’t. Magnus is still a little distant, but his eyes seem to brighten a little when Alec walks in after a long day in the office. Magnus has his good days and his bad, but even in the worst of it he’s never unkind. They don’t often talk about it, but every once in a while something will crack through. Magnus alludes to vague descriptions of war, blurry details about the magic loss. Alec shares little things too. His father’s affairs, pressures of the job. They go for long runs together in the cool mornings which inevitably end with hot showers together afterwards. They spend quiet hours together at the dining room table, Magnus reading and Alec working on his case reports. Sometimes Magnus helps fill in the gaps in Alec’s information, using his incredible memory and details from his very very long life. Alec learns how to cook, slowly but surely under Magnus’s strict but steady tutelage. He becomes a capable if not extraordinary chef, but suggests every once in while they brave the threat of an attack and go out for dinner and get pleasantly tipsy together. Magnus starts a garden. They are attacked once, but this time Alec can handle it on his own, using his arrows and making sure Magnus was pulled behind him first. 

Alec spends a Saturday helping Magnus dye his hair, when he unexpectedly has the day off. He’d unlocked the door to find Magnus gaping at him, flushed with embarrassment, holding a box mundane purple dye.

“It’s not easy without magic.” He’d muttered sheepishly.

“I can help.”

Magnus quirks a skeptical smile.

“You know how to do this?”

“Sure. Izzy went through a phase where she dyed the tips of her hair red when she was ten.”

Alec neglects to mention he’d accidentally poured too strong of a bleach into her hair on the first try, which ended in some hair falling out and Izzy chasing Alec through the halls, threatening to kill him. He’s careful with Magnus, avoiding his eyes, working the bleach in where Magnus points and wrapping the foils. He settles on the sofa to read a report while Magnus showers. From this angle he can see Magnus has left the door slightly ajar, and is smiling at his reflection, enjoying the new strands of vivid violet in his hair. His eyes catch Alec’s in the mirror and he winks salaciously once before closing the door all the way.

On the following Thursday Alec finds himself slumped back against the bathroom sink cupboard, head thrown back in laughter, breathless as Magnus had finally cornered him with eyeliner pencil in hand.

“Just try it. If it looks silly, I’ll take it off.” Magnus beseeches him, kneeling in between Alec’s long legs. So Alec acquiesces, trying to hold as still as possible while Magnus’s fingers firmly hold his chin in place. Magnus stands up, stretching a little, and holds out a hand to Alec to help him up. He shifts behind so he’s just behind Alec’s shoulder, warm fingers resting easily on Alec’s hips.

Alec starts. Seeing himself with eyeliner on is strange, foreign. Not bad by any stretch of the imagination, just different. But he can see why people like it so much. It makes his eyes look sharper, bigger. He glances at Magnus in the mirror, the other man inordinately pleased at his handiwork.

“Beautiful.” Magnus murmurs, lips just touching the outside of Alec’s ear, sending shivers down his neck.

Alec chafes under the scrutiny; he’s never been one to easily accept compliments. He flushes, suddenly self conscious and lifts a sleeve to wipe away the eyeliner. But Magnus catches his hand and spins him around to press Alec against the sink, looking a little flushed too. And Alec’s being kissed, like really kissed. Like Magnus doesn’t just want him, he wants to _consume_ him. It seems to occur to them both the sink edge is pressing into Alec’s hip at an incredibly awkward angle, so Magnus draws him into the living room. He pushes him onto the sofa, maybe a little carelessly, and pulls his own shirt over his head before tugging at Alec’s.

“God you’re sexy.” Magnus breathes against Alec’s neck rune, one hand sliding down Alec’s body to work the buttons of Alec’s pants free.

"Whatever." Alec mutters, voice hitching as Magnus palms his cock through his boxers. Magnus laughs a little.

"You do that a lot."

"Do what?" Alec gasps.

“Dismiss compliments. You live your whole life like you don’t deserve any nice thing Alexander. Like anyone who says a single decent thing about you or does a decent thing for you must be exaggerating or lying.” Magnus says before catching Alec's rebuttle in a kiss. 

 _He’s just making the best of it. It doesn't have to mean anything._ Alec thinks to himself afterwards, wiping his eyes with some magical makeup removing wipes. It was important, imperative even, to not let himself get carried away. He picks up his _stele_ from the edge of the sink and holds it above his _iratze_ rune to disperse of the marks Magnus liked to leave on his body. He looks at the circular bruise on his chest, just above his heart, but well below the line of his T-shirt. He pockets his _stele_ without activating it.

\--

Winter melts into spring, and Magnus’s garden starts poking tiny green shoots through the dark earth. The spring also brings Isabelle.

“I just need a break.” She sighs, hugging her brother.

“I’ll make up the couch for you.” Magnus says behind them, catching Alec’s eyes briefly before busying himself in the linen closet.

She stays for a week. There is something nice about coming home to see her chatting jovially with Magnus on the sofa, painting their nails together or Magnus braiding her long hair. Raphael comes by the week after, also needing to crash for a few days while the DuMort is renovated, which Alec isn’t thrilled about it but he knows Magnus cares deeply for him. Alec has no idea when their place became some sort of refugee shelter but he realizes Magnus doesn’t mind playing host, and actually genuinely enjoys it. He looks happy, happier than Alec thinks he’s ever seen him, and in a strange way it rather hurts. Sleeping next to Magnus more often takes a little getting used to. Magnus definitely snores, but he insists that Alec does too. Magnus runs hot; Alec runs cold. On more then one occasion he finds himself pressed flush against Magnus’s spine, with not a clue as to how he got into that position. But Magnus never seems to mind.

“I don’t like you.” Raphael says curtly when his things are packed. Alec rolls his eyes; this much was expected. “But thanks for taking care of him.” Raphael says, holding out a hand to formally shake Alec’s.

Alec bundles up the sheets, dumping them in the hamper. He finds Magnus puttering away in the kitchen, reorganizing the spice rack.

“I packed up the sofa.” Alec informs him deliberately.

Magnus places the jar carefully on the counter, and turns around slowly. Alec flushes, but Magnus doesn’t look angry, only curious.

“I see.”

“I only thought- you’re fairly tall, and the sofa can’t be that comfortable.”

It’s almost too quiet, and Alec is acutely aware of clock ticking in the hallway.

“Never mind I just thought- I mean, the sofa is adequate. I only wondered-” he blurts out, ears turning bright red. Magnus appraises the sofa briefly.

“You’re right, the sofa isn’t that comfortable. In fact I'd almost even call it less than adequate.”

“Ah- ok.”

\--

It’s easy to become complacent, he thinks, during a lull in his sparring session with Jace. It’s easy to see things beyond what they were. The little touches, the soft caresses. The way Magnus put his hands on Alec’s hips to shift him when he was walking behind Alec in the kitchen, or the way Magnus would listen to Alec complain about his day, pretty eyes concerned and serious.

“You’ve grown soft.” Jace smirks, and Alec replies by deftly knocking Jace to the ground in an easy stroke. Later when they are putting their weapons back he finds Jace regarding him curiously. 

“Something you want to say?” he asks, polishing his bow.

“It’s different.” Jace replies, brow furrowed.

“What is?”

“The way you fight. It’s different.”

“How so?”

“I mean you’ve always been a good fighter, don’t get me wrong. But you’re actually playing to win I guess, rather than to not lose.”

Alec shrugs but he thinks about it later. He’d never admit it out loud, but the truth was he’d never had someone worth not dying for.

There were things he couldn’t say, words he’d choked back until it hurt. He’s founds ways of forcing all of it down. He had lovers since he met Magnus those many years ago, some of whom he’d genuinely cared for. But none of them were like Magnus, none of them could even come close. Not even the way he felt about Jace that one time, and he thought that was everything. He wouldn’t call this falling in love, not exactly. Falling in love in peace time was a fool’s game; falling in love during war was suicide and Alec is smarter than that. At least he thinks so.

So the way finds himself fixating on the way Magnus looks in the morning, hair mussed and tiny traces of eyeliner from the night before doesn’t mean much. Or watching the way Magnus would gently sway his hips when he washed dishes, moving to a song only he could hear.

All Alec can do is remind himself of the facts. Magnus Bane had lost his magic. Magnus was in danger; his life was at risk. He didn’t deserve to die, not after all he had done for the Shadowhunters. Alec had some massive aneurism and did the best thing he could think of. And now they were roommates who periodically fucked and were also legally bound together.

At times, Alec marvels at truly how little he'd thought this all through, and he never seems to be able to ask Magnus what he thinks of all of it.  _Marriage is a compromise. It requires a great deal of sacrifice_. This is what his mother, ever practical, told him a marriage was since he was a little boy and now he thinks he can see that.  _You do what it takes to make it work._  She hadn't mentioned love, and maybe it didn't really matter. But Magnus didn’t hate him. Of this much he could be sure. In fact, Magnus maybe even liked him. He wouldn’t dare call what they had anything close to love. After all, could anyone truly love someone they were beholden to?

It’s something they should discuss, probably, but somehow never get around to it. But it lingers, the uneasy feeling, hidden in their bedroom closet when Alec is startled to see some of Magnus's clothes mixed in with his, when Magnus reminds Alec to sign the card he made Simon for his birthday. In May, right before he leaves for a four-day field mission Magnus tips his forehead against Alec’s in the foyer. He murmurs “Be careful,” for the very first time, before pressing his lips gently to Alec’s for a quick kiss.

It occurs to Alec not for the first time that maybe he should be.

\--

In late July the Clave holds a ball, to celebrate the two-year anniversary of the new Accords. It’s also a part of a new initiative to create bridges of peace and harmony with the Downworld, and Alec is informed in no uncertain terms that he and his husband must be there. This is a request he would normally abhor, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t love the way Counsel Penhallow seemed to choke a little on the word “husband.”

He informs Magnus, who gives him a noncommittal “Ok.”

The day of he finds his only suit laid out on the bed, neatly pressed. He has no idea when Magnus found the time to do this, or how he managed to fix the sleeves of a shirt Alec is fairly certain he outgrew. His suit seems different too, like the quality is a bit finer but he can’t be sure. He waits in the living room while Magnus fixes himself up in the bathroom. It doesn’t take as long as Alec thinks it will, and Alec’s jaw nearly drops before he catches himself. Magnus looks exquisite in an eggplant colored jacquard blazer and matching trousers. Magnus refuses to leave the house without eyeliner, apparently feeling naked without it, but today his eyes are lined with a dark purple shadow that make his brown eyes stand out. There’s a subtle glitter on his cheekbones that just catches the light. Alec swallows, and tries not to gape while Magnus fixes his tie.

Right before they enter, Alec pulls Magnus back to prevent him from going in.

“What is it?”

“There will probably be a lot of questions. A lot of small talk. People might like… ask about us.”

“Don’t worry." Magnus grins. "I’m good at this.”

Magnus is good at this. Too good, Alec realizes as he watches Magnus charm literally every person they come across. Alec grabs them both drinks, and is alarmed to see Magnus has been cornered by Simon Lewis and of all people, his mother. He rushes over to just catch Simon asking how they met and when they knew they were each other’s soulmates. He hates Simon. His mother looks tightlipped and haughty, but he can see the curiosity is overriding her displeasure.

He thinks they are screwed, but Magnus weaves a beautiful story about two men who fell in love before war, but managed to maintain a powerful connection in spite of the horrors of battle and forced separation. As Magnus describes hypothetical love letters they wrote, covert meeting between lulls in the fighting, waiting desperately for the day they would no longer be apart, he feels his face getting red, and this emotion rising in his chest that he cannot place at all. Simon looks like a rapt child, and even his mother looks engrossed. Magnus goes on about how Alec saved him multiple times, not a complete lie, but mentions how terribly brave and incredibly kind Alec is. He’s half paying attention, trying to ignore his heart beating in his ears.

“And I’m so lucky to have found him.” Magnus says, placing his hand on Alec’s arm and stroking it gently, breaking his reverie. Magnus’s hand feels like it’s burning through the heavy fine cloth of his blazer and he needs air. He excuses himself quickly, and leans heavily against the balcony outside, gulping in the sticky summer air. His mother finds him a second later. He doesn’t want to confront her right now, but to his surprise she looks like she’s been crying.

“I’m sorry, Alec.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry about the way we reacted. He’s lovely, Alec, and he loves you. I can see why you chose him.”

Hysterical laughter bubbles up in his throat. If his mother only knew the half of it. But draws her in to hug her instead, the motion quieting his nerves for a second.  

They go back in the hall, where he proceeds to drink probably more than what is fitting to a head of an Institute.

They leave as quickly as it is acceptable. On the way home he is sullen and silent. Magnus glances at him concernedly once or twice, but says nothing. When they walk in Magnus shrugs off his coat.

“I think that went rather well.” He remarks lightly, breaking the quiet.

“What were you thinking?” Alec hisses.

“What do you mean?”  

“You didn’t have to do all that.” He protests, gesturing exasperatedly at the table, annoyed at the sharp rise of tone in his voice. 

“All what?” Magnus replies calmly, if just a touch confused.

“The stories, everything.”

“I did as you asked, Alexander.” Magnus says evenly, folding his arms over his chest.

“No, right. Of course.” Alec flails.

“What the hell has gotten into you? How much did you drink?”

“I know you had no choice but to marry me. You wouldn’t even be stuck here if you had your magic. I know you are doing the best you can, but you don’t have to pretend you’re happy with-” Alec cries, anger quickly transfiguring into hopeless defeat. He’s said too much; he’s drunk too much. Magnus’s eyes are blown wide, like he’s seeing Alec for the first time. He sucks in a quick breath.

“Let’s talk about it later, Alexander.” He says, voice trembling slightly.

There’s a second when the world is completely still, right before the alarm blares out. Not just on his phone, but hideously ringing throughout the entire set of houses. This means a full on attack and the area has been compromised. He doesn’t look at Magnus, tearing of his coat and finding his more practical gear.

“You can’t go like this. You aren’t even fully sober.” Magnus states quietly behind him. Alec glances at him once. Magnus’s eyes are wide and his nostrils are flared, and he’s breathing heavily. 

“You don’t open that door for anyone who isn’t me.” Alec warns, and slams out without a backward glance.

\--

He’s not entirely sure where it all went wrong. A series of mistakes, likely his fault, but everyone else is safe. He dimly discerns they are victorious, but something happened and now there is a gaping gash across his abdomen and _iratze_ isn't working. He’s in and out of consciousness, bits and pieces coming in ebbs and whirls. He recognizes his own living room, everyone speaking in too loud voices. Magnus’s face has a terrible expression Alec has never seen before, and it flutters in and out of focus.

“What the fuck happened?” Magnus seethes.

Jace flinches, and Alec lifts a weak hand. He doesn’t want them fighting like this but maybe it won’t matter. Jace is crying, not the first time Alec’s witnessed it, he can feel Jace’s sobs reverberate in his body, in addition to the terror pulsating from his Parabatai rune.

“Help him, Magnus.”

“You need to leave.”

“That’s definitely not happening.”

“I need to call in a favor with the Warlocks and they won’t come if you are all here.”

Alec feels himself carried into the bedroom, more voices swirling around him accompanied by the slam of doors. Nothing is making any sense anymore, and he’s starting to feel cold. For the second time in his life he sees his death.

“Magnus?” He gasps out. 

“Shh my sweet. I’m here.”

Magnus’s hand feels cool against his burning face. He can hear more voices, maybe a female one, but he can’t be sure of anything. The world spins in and out of focus, and he thinks he can see a flash of gold in Magnus’s eyes but everything is bursting into gold and then darkness.

\--

He wakes up the next morning, fuzzy and disoriented. The room starts coming into focus, wan sunlight just pushing through the blinds. Alec touches his side gingerly. Nothing. Just pale skin sealed together by a thin silver scar. Magnus sleeps breathing heavily. Alec touches his shoulder gently, but he doesn’t stir at all.

Alec hears a pounding at the door, and he looks around for a weapon.

“It’s me, Catarina.”

Alec sighs a breath of relief, and pads through the bedroom to the front door. Catarina looks surprised to see him.

“Alec? Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m so grateful to you.”

“What for?” She asks distractedly, hardly paying attention to him. “Where’s Magnus? He told me he was performing a very complicated healing spell and asked me to be ready in case he needed me. I’ve called him six times this morning and he won’t answer.”

“He’s- he’s sleeping.”

“Oh thank goodness." She says, relief leaking into her voice. "Alec he was so worried about you. I’d never heard him so frightened in my life.”

He thanks her for coming by, promising to make Magnus call her when he wakes up. He shuts the door gently, and presses his forehead against the cool wood. He stays like that for a long time, the solid breadth of the door feeling real and stable. Finally, he steals into the bedroom when Magnus is still nearly passed out. He slides under the covers and pulls Magnus’s body towards him, wrapping his arm around Magnus’s chest.

“Alexander?” Magnus murmurs, words breaking through his heavy cloud of sleep.

“Shh.” Alec whispers into Magnus’s neck, pulling Magnus in as tightly as he dares without waking the other man.

\--

The sun is sinking in the sky, painting warm hues of pink and gold when Magnus walks into the kitchen, still looking exhausted.

“How are you?” Alec asks, offering Magnus some water.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? God, do we have anything stronger? Vodka maybe?” Magnus asks blearily, taking a sip. As he wakes, he observes Alec. “Are you alright?”

“I am. I wanted to thank you.” Alec says carefully.

Magnus sits heavily, expression perplexed.

“What for, Alexander?”

Alec takes one deep breath to steady himself.

“For saving my life." Another careful breath. "We can get divorced. When you get a little stronger.” He says, looking just past Magnus. 

Magnus’s body goes still, and he folds his hands together.

“Is that what you want?”

“It’s what you want.”

“How did you figure that?”

“Your magic is back. You can protect yourself again.”

“Oh. I see. Is- is there someone else?”

"No." Alec answers, voice just above a whisper. 

They stare at the table in silence. Alec feels physically fine, but suddenly just wants to lie down. He rises, leaning heavily on the wood for support. He’s nearly to the bedroom when he hears Magnus behind him.

"Can I ask you something, Alexander?" Magnus's voice is so quiet Alec has to strain to hear him.

"Whatever you wish, Magnus." He whispers. 

"I've wracked my brain, thinking of how to ask you all these months. I still don't know how to ask you, but you've never told me why. I remember that day, the last time I thought I would ever see you. I remember the Circle, I remember it all. But I don't know what you thought you owed me, unless there was something else."

Alec can feel his eyes fill. He bites his tongue, letting the sting prevent him from saying anything. The truth was he wasn't sure he even knew, not the complete truth anyway. It was true, Magnus saved his life once, and it was fair to return the favor. But there was also that part that had never stopped wondering about Magnus Bane when the world got too quiet. If he was safe. If he was happy. If he was loved. But he says nothing, hand on the knob of their bedroom door. 

“My magic came back two months ago. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. I should have, but I guess there never seemed like a good time. I’m sorry.”

Alec turns around slowly. Magnus is maybe a step away from him, maintaining the distance. Magnus shakes his head. 

“I don’t know what would have happened, Alexander, if there hadn’t been this war. But I’ve given up on guessing and I don’t believe in fate.” He reaches out and touches the outside of Alec’s hand with a finger. Alec swallows. Magnus’s fingers slide down the outside of his hand to hold his very gently.

“I like our life. I like coming home to you. I- I do love you, Alexander. You- you don’t need to let me go. Unless you want to. ”

Alec’s eyes start pricking. He breathes through the funny twist in his heart. He closes his fingers around Magnus’s, still unable to face him. He then does the third stupid reckless thing he can think of. 

"I love you, Magnus." Alec chokes out. There's more to it than that, or maybe not. 

“I guess you owe me now, anyway.” Magnus states, but his voice is warm.

Alec laughs a little, voice breaking in a sob. His lifts his eyes slowly into Magnus’s. “I guess so.”  

“Shall we continue our sham of a marriage then? Maybe for a little while longer?”

“Alright. A little while longer.”

\--

They say it was the wedding of the century. Well, a one-year vow renewal actually. It wasn’t something that Shadowhunters actually did, but the Lightwood-Banes were never really ones for tradition. Apparently all stops had been pulled out, with dignitaries represented from all communities. This surely must have pleased Maryse and Robert Lightwood, who were said to have put their differences aside to gave their son away together to the recently reinstated High Warlock of Brooklyn. Simon Lewis loudly sobbed during the entire ceremony and every toast, multiple people told Jace and Clary they were next, and Raphael Santiago came perilously close to smiling. Copious amounts of champagne were passed around. Sia, Seelie singer extraordinaire, performed.

But the grooms didn’t seem to be aware of all that. After all, they didn’t need all the fanfare to prove their love, but a party was always nice. No seemed to notice at some point they had slipped away through a portal to Fiji, to find an empty beach and watch the sunrise. And maybe they talked about the future, the children they might have one day, the things they would do, places they would see. Or maybe a hand slipped into the other’s and they watched the sun rise in silence, pink streaks just breaking over the horizon. It was only for them to know.  

 

 

 

 

End

**Author's Note:**

> This was like... longer than I intended but hiatus is killing me fam.


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